


The Light On Your Door

by bigblackdog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Body Swap, Existential Porn, Intimacy, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Potions Accident, Werewolf Prejudice, a teeny bit of choking, remus lupin's carefully guarded sense of self, showering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:04:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21023708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblackdog/pseuds/bigblackdog
Summary: Despite his many ventures into self sabotage and a tendency toward cynicism about himself and his future, Remus never anticipated that he would quite so literally fuck himself.





	The Light On Your Door

**Author's Note:**

> Team: destination
> 
> Prompt:  
The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.”  
-Marcel Proust
> 
> title taken from "i'll be your mirror" by the velvet underground
> 
> thank you, mods! thank you, r, for your fantastic and detailed beta work!

Despite his many ventures into self sabotage and a tendency toward cynicism about himself and his future, Remus never anticipated that he would quite so literally fuck himself. 

But here he is, crouched hot and aching, looking down at the prominent knobs of his own shoulders and his skinny long neck and his too large nose. That it's actually Sirius panting underneath him and looking up at him through Remus' eyes seems irrelevant in this moment. If Remus has learned anything from this bizarre experiment, it's that his body, however unfortunately, belongs to him just as much as his mind, that the whole of him isn't so easily parsed into _ body _ and _ mind_, as if they exist separately. And that while Remus' perspective might have shifted to see the world from Sirius' eyes, he is, in fact, about to fuck his own arsehole. 

It's not where Remus thought they would end up. 

**Last Thursday, 7:30 a.m., or Remus Lupin's Last Moments of (Relative) Normalcy **

Remus wakes with one pulsing, seething thought in his head: _ Fuck off. _

James is laughing about something-- Remus does not care what-- and _ someone _is tearing their room apart like a rabid niffler. 

"Learn to fucking whisper. It's not that hard," Remus says, and if it sounds like a growl that's because his throat is still sleep scratchy because he should still be _ asleep _.

There's a muttered, "shite," and "Sorry, Moony," and James says, "And let this commanding voice go to waste?"

"Wankers," Remus says with feeling. "You're all wankers. It's _ Thursday_." As in, the only day of the week when these three erumpets who have somehow successfully managed to masquerade as boys for the last seven years tromp off to Muggle Studies and leave Remus to enjoy at least another hour of sleep. So far that plan has only been theoretical because every bloody Thursday something like this happens. 

"I can't find my tie." Sirius. Last week it was his homework, the week before his wand, the week before that it was an unknown substance spilt on everyone's clean laundry and subsequently eating holes through all their robes. 

"We'll meet you down there, Pads," James says, like he thinks it's hilarious to leave Sirius to deal with Remus right now. 

It does not improve Remus' mood.

Sirius opens the bed curtains, letting a bright shaft of sunlight hit Remus right in the eyes. 

"Go. Away."

Sirius shifts one knee onto Remus' bed and leans over him. "And everyone thinks you're the nice one," he says, combing Remus' hair back from his forehead.

"Why do you do this to me?"

Sirius climbs fully onto the bed, hands framing Remus' face. "Because I am a mess, Moony. And I think that potion ate through one of my ties."

Remus sighs and lets Sirius press kisses over all over his face until Sirius gets silly and punctuates each firm kiss with loud lip smacking sounds.

"Get off me," Remus says, pushing him away and trying not to crack a smile. 

Sirius chases after him, smacking his lips. "Mooooony. How could you laugh at my expressions of love and affection? How could you do that to me? I'm putting my heart on the line Moony, trying to show I care for you!" 

"Oh, shut up," Remus says. "Show your love and affection with silence and tea."

Sirius nuzzles into Remus' neck. "You're coming to breakfast then?"

"You know I am. That was probably your plan from the start."

"Moony, I promise you I have never planned anything in my life."

"That might actually be true."

It's true enough regarding Sirius' homework.

Sirius hurries them to breakfast where he simultaneously shoves a piece of bacon into his mouth and starts scribbling furiously on a slightly crumpled roll of parchment, bacon still dangling from his mouth. Remus watches all of this with a sleepy detachment and slowly rouses himself to pour a cup of pumpkin juice. 

"Is that the Transfig essay?"

Sirius grunts.

"Mate. Minnie's going to go spare. She assigned that two weeks ago."

"I'll finish." Sirius finally bites into his bacon, wipes his greasy fingers on his robes and bends down close to his parchment again. 

Remus leans over to look at his parchment. Sirius isn't adding a paragraph to the end, he's starting a paragraph at the beginning, but it's too early in the morning to rouse any anxiety over it.

"Two sickles McGonagall makes him tutor the second years again," Peter says.

"After last time? Not a chance in hell," Remus says.

"I'll finish," Sirius says.

James leans across the table to check Sirius' progress, and sits back down, considering. 

"Three sickles he finishes but she makes him rewrite it."

"Don't take it, Pete," Remus advises. "Sirius has traded a bit of his soul in exchange for pulling off impossible academic feats."

Sirius looks up, grinning widely-- "S'true--" before dipping back down.

"Explains why he's so terrible," James says, reaching out to roughly mess Sirius' hair.

Sirius bats him away without even retaliating.

**Thursday Morning, 9:30 a.m., Local Disaster-Prone Boys Left to Their Own Devices**

Potions: a lecture, the kind peppered with Slughorn's smug satisfaction at his connections to famous potioneers

A Perception Potion: used to enhance one's senses, developed for Aurors to use during defensive combat (let's completely ignore why you're teaching this potion to seventh years, shall we Slughorn?), can be altered to focus on a particular sense-- hearing, sight, etc. (what good would enhanced taste be in combat?) 

Work Time: brew a perception potion, extra credit for particular sense alterations, onset of inescapable dread. 

"Cheer up Moony. They're dead easy," James says when Slughorn releases them to start brewing. He's tilting back on two chair legs, looking perfectly at ease, and Remus catches Peter's eye to share a look of _ can you believe these arseholes? _ "A bit useless though, don't you think? What's the point of having enhanced senses if you don't have the enhanced reflexes to match? That means you just have more time to _ watch _ the _ Stupify _ flying at your face. Although, maybe if you added some alihotsy to catalyze the--" James starts mumbling to himself and sets off for the ingredients cupboard, leaving a nervous looking Peter at their work station. 

"Why can't we just make the potion in the textbook?" Peter asks Remus forlornly. "Just _ once_. I'll never be able to recreate one of these James Potter Originals for NEWTs."

Remus shrugs. "Just set up your work station next to me and you'll look good by comparison." 

Remus long ago gave up hope that a more positive attitude would help his potions work. When things are likely to explode, it pays to be a realist. He picks the sight variation of the potion because it seems like there is less chopping involved.

Sirius, meanwhile, is still rapidly writing underneath the desk.

"You're supposed to be helping me," Remus says, lowering the flame under the purified base to give himself more time to double check things. 

"I am, I am, two seconds," Sirius says, not even looking up.

"‘Don't drop potions, Remus. We'll be partners, Remus. It'll be fun, Remus.’"

"I'm certain I never said it would be _ fun_."

"Dice up the bursting mushrooms. Come on."

Sirius ignores him, slowly and carefully practicing a wand movement underneath the desk before picking up his quill again. 

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you finished an essay, oh I don't know, the night before maybe." 

Sirius doesn't answer. He practices the same wand movement again, a little faster this time, followed by more notes on his essay. 

Remus checks the directions on the board three times before sprinkling a pinch of powdered mallowsweet over the surface of the potion as carefully as possible. Instead of an "even dusting" spreading beautifully over the surface of his potion, he has a stubborn clump clinging to the side of the cauldron. 

As he's trying to poke the lump with a slender stirring stick, James leans back and says, "It's easier if you put it into one of the small size strainers first and then tap the strainer over it. No lumps." 

"Great. Thank you." 

"Ha!" Sirius says, smacking his parchment down on the desk and popping out of his chair. "Done!"

"Couldn't you have finished in Muggle Studies?" Remus gives up on the lump and tips in a pixiespoon of syrup of hellebore.

"Couldn't possibly. Finally finished all the wars and now we're on pop culture and Remus-- _ Bowie_."

"Hope it was worth--"

"I'm helping now. See?"

They peer into the cauldron together where the potion is coagulating into stringy lumps. They watch for a moment, mesmerized by the separating strands suspended in grayish watery liquid before they seem to melt, mixing with the rest of the potion before separating again. 

"Hm." Sirius says officially. "Let's just--" He dips the tip of his wand into the cauldron, perhaps about to perform a stasis charm for some damage control, when one of the lumps surges up and grips onto his wand. 

There's an ominous gurgle and "Uh-oh," before the potion erupts, spraying them with partially reconstituted potion and flinging the stringy lumps against their faces with a wet smack.

Remus starts to laugh--because _ of course-- _ before he's hit by a dizzy spell so strong his vision blurs. He reaches out for Sirius. The dizziness recedes and rushes back in pulsing waves, clouding his vision with spots-- "Professor I think--" the beat of blood in his ears, loud, too loud-- "Yes, really ought to--" stinging tingling sneezing in his nose-- "Hospital Wing, I'll--" arms hauling him up, a slow moving prickle across every pore on his body-- stumbling, pulsing, pounding, prickling--

**Thursday, The Aftermath, Including but not limited to: Remus Lupin's Probably Inappropriate Erection**

When the dizziness recedes Remus’ head is still pounding and he’s laying on a hospital cot… across from himself? 

"Oh bloody hell," Remus says, but his voice doesn't sound like his own. 

"Language Mr. Black," Slughorn chastises in a tired voice. "We'll get this sorted out," he says, but that seems rather half-hearted as well.

"He's not--_ I'm _ Mr. Black." This does sound like Remus' voice, coming from Remus' body, but Remus said no such thing and--

He's in Sirius' body. Merlin and Morgana, he's _in_ Sirius' _body_. And bloody hell, is he getting a hard on from this? Which makes sense. Remus can understand that reaction because he is _in_ _Sirius'_ _body_. But also he is surrounded by no less than Professor Slughorn, Madame Pomfrey, and-- shite-- Professor McGonagall. The smell of the hospital wing is too much. Remus didn't know you could have both a raging headache and a raging erection. Maybe that's just something particular to Sirius' body: ability to maintain an erection under any circumstances-- oh _god--_ thoughts which are very much not helping. 

Remus looks down and instead of his bony chest and concave stomach he sees Sirius' hands and long muscled legs which also very much does not help the erection situation. He tries to subtly cross his legs but fumbles awkwardly. It's like trying to walk on a foot that's asleep-- numb, floppy guesswork. And-- oh Christ-- they've been talking this whole time and Remus hasn't heard a word.

"It shouldn't take much to switch us back," Sirius is saying, "It was a Transfig spell, which is obviously unstable without intent and we didn't _ mean _ to switch bodies."

Slughorn heaves a put-upon sigh and Professor McGonagall pushes up her spectacles to pinch the bridge of her nose, which is a move Remus hasn't seen since the beginning of sixth year at least. 

It's a great deal more complicated, they learn, after headache potions and glasses of water and a brief lecture from Sirius on the design and intentions of the spell he bloody _ invented _ this morning, during which McGonagall grows increasingly agitated. 

"Mr. Black, the assignment was to write an essay about the theory behind Untransfiguration, not invent dangerous experimental spells."

"It's only dangerous if it's mixed with a Perception Potion," Sirius says, and it almost sounds reasonable delivered in Remus' mild voice. 

"An incorrectly brewed perception potion," Slughorn adds. Rather unnecessarily, Remus thinks. 

"Untransfiguring an object into its opposite? Clever as you are, Mr. Black, I'm sure you can see the inherent dangers of a spell that produces unknown and unpredictable results!"

"But-- don't you think-- for things like cursed objects? Or--" Sirius works up with dawning realization, "Deriving antidotes using Whitaker's Law of the Transitive Properties of Poisons?" Sirius says, clearly pleased with himself. 

Professor McGonagall's lips thin and it's hard to tell if Sirius has made her proud or even more angry. Both, probably. Sirius has that effect on people. 

"You may detail the possible _theoretical_ applications of this spell and its dangers and ethical implications, as well as theorize what, exactly, has happened here in an essay," Professor McGonagall says, the corner of her mouth might be fighting a smile. "Considering the mess you've put yourself and Mr. Lupin in, I'd say four feet is appropriate."

Sirius groans. 

Madame Pomfrey has finished poking and prodding and 'hmming' over different colored spells. She steps back and tuts. "Just once I'd like one of you boys to show up here with something that's covered by basic diagnostic spells."

"Where's the fun in that?"

Madame Pomfrey starts to level a look at Sirius but her brows furrow as she looks at Sirius-in-Remus'-body like she can't quite bring herself to glare at Remus' freckled face. "Clear out of here, there's nothing I can do without more research and you seem to be in perfectly fine spirits, Mr. Black."

Even more miserably, they're not even late for History of Magic. 

"She sent you back to class?" James asks. "Our Minnie, she never ceases to amaze me. Ruthless, she is," James says with no small amount of admiration. 

Remus and Sirius are less amused at McGonagall's edict. 

"Soooo," Peter says, twisted in his seat. "Are you, uh? Gonna switch back?"

Reading between the lines of a discussion that included words like "irresponsible" and "unprecedented", the short answer seems to be No. 

**Thursday Night, More Erections?**

Remus stands outside the row of showers with a towel around Sirius’ hips, waiting for the water to warm. Sirius is already showering.

“It just felt weird,” Remus tries to explain, slipping into Sirius’ shower stall with him. He's not sure what: being apart from his own body? Being apart from Sirius? The thought of running his hands all over Sirius' body without Sirius there. All of it.

Every little thing requires thought and experiment. It's been a day full of awkward realizations and unforeseen inabilities. Remus keeps tripping over Sirius' larger feet, he can't get comfortable in his chair, there's a fluttering kind of momentum in Sirius' body, like the feeling of coming to a standstill after a long time running. All day, bumping elbows and tripping up stairs and squirming in chairs. Inconveniences that pale in comparison to neither of their wands working for them. Sirius had been stunned, it might have been the first time Sirius’ wand didn’t do exactly what Sirius intended for it to do.

Sirius stands under the spray looking at him for a moment, before drawing Remus close and hugging their wet bodies together. "Merlin I'm glad you came over. I wanted to but--" Sirius shrugs. "I don't know. I guess I thought you've had to be in my body all day already, maybe you're sick of me."

Remus stops sucking water droplets from Sirius' neck-- his own neck-- to frown up at Sirius. He doesn't know how to explain that while he desperately wants to be in his own body again, and the mess of feelings hiding under the surface of that desire, he also can't stand to be apart from Sirius right now. "I don't know how to do this." 

Sirius drops his head onto Remus' shoulder, pulling himself even closer. It feels like they should be talking about a lot of different things, and Remus even has the vague idea that under normal circumstances he would want to, that those things would be stacking themselves neatly in his mind to wait their turn to be picked up and examined carefully, but right now he only has room in his head for Sirius' wet body which is actually his own wet body. 

Holding Sirius close still, he reaches for the shampoo, letting go of him only to pop the cap open and squeeze a little into his hand. And then he's washing Sirius' hair--his own hair-- but he's washing his own hair _ for _ Sirius. He's much gentler than usual, swirling his fingers around in soothing patterns and rinsing carefully, wiping the drips of soapy water away from Sirius' eyes. Sirius looks at him the entire time, expression unreadable. Remus wonders if it's unreadable because it's a Sirius expression on a Remus face.

Sirius soaps up his hands and rubs them all over Remus' body, only, it's his own body and there's a proprietary confidence about the paths his hands take, an unselfconscious ease with which he washes Remus' armpits, combing his fingers through the hair there to get it nice and soapy. Sirius washes Remus' balls and cock which are really Sirius' balls and Sirius' cock and Remus once again feels what Sirius feels like aroused. Sirius' hands gripping and rubbing with a confidence beyond just familiarity. Sirius' hands moving across Remus with unquestioned ownership. It’s such a heady experience Remus starts shaking, having to grip tight to Sirius' shoulders to stay upright when Sirius bends down to wash Remus' thighs and calves and even between his toes. There are no secret places between them. Sirius knows them all, owns them all. 

"It's too much," Remus whispers, not knowing he was thinking it until he said it. 

Sirius stands slowly, resting his hands lightly on Remus' waist. "Ok," he says, panting. Remus can see his own cock is hard too and thinking about Sirius feeling aroused in Remus' body is too much. Too much of what he doesn't know. He doesn't know and he just wants to curl up in Sirius' arms and shut his eyes. 

They don't dry each other off. 

They crawl into bed and curl up the way they always do, Remus' body on his back, Sirius' half on top of him, head tucked into Remus' neck. Only, of course, it's not what they always do at all.

Remus moves to tuck himself in, sliding underneath Sirius' arm which is really his own arm, and actually-Remus'-arm knows just what to do, curling around actually-Sirius'-body like this is more than habit, more like instinct, although Remus can't quite parse through the shades of difference between the two right now. 

Remus suddenly feels completely relaxed, his mind slowing luxuriously. There's a lovely image in his mind-- of honey in a perpetual slow stretching drip. He burrows closer into the warm body at his side and loses track of time. 

"Is it weird to touch each other, do you think?" Sirius asks him.

"I'm not sure," he says. Remus tries to access the sudden overwhelm he felt in the shower, but through the haze of his slow honey mind it feels far away. 

"It's just--" Sirius starts. "It's just maybe this is harder on you because like, you've already got to share your body and-- and well I…"

Remus is startled by the insight he feels really should have come from him. "I-- that sounds… right." Remus says.

"And I also… well. It's maybe easier for me because I--" Sirius cuts himself off again. It's not like him to be so careful.

"What is it?"

Sirius stares determinedly up at the red bed curtains. "Well I always kind of want to crawl inside you so…" 

"Oh Sirius," Remus says helplessly. He doesn't know what to say to that and so he just curls himself tighter around Sirius and hopes he understands what Remus doesn't. He can't say it's ok because it isn't and he can't say it isn't ok because… it is? It feels like his head won't cooperate with him, like there's someone standing at the entrance saying _ no sorry full _ and Remus is craning his neck trying to find just one empty seat. 

He rolls on top of Sirius, pressing himself heavily against the body beneath him and it's like something is blooming in Remus, the pressure and closeness filling up his whole body with satisfaction, pushing out the irritated grasping in his head. Remus moans without realizing.

"Does it always feel this good?" Remus asks.

"Yes," Sirius says. "Always."

"I didn't know."

"I tell you all the time how much I like being smushed up next to you."

"Well yeah but, I didn't know that meant-- I don't even know how to describe it. It's like you're--"

"Settled." 

"Oh," Remus says. "Yes."

Remus' hands are moving all over Sirius, softly pressing into his ribs, stroking fingers down his sides, cupping the pleasing swell of his arse before he even realizes he's appreciatively cupping his own arse. "This is weird. This is weird in so many ways."

Remus feels the warm breath of Sirius' soft laugh. "Is this what loving yourself feels like?" 

Remus giggles into Sirius' neck. "The closest we'll ever get to it."

**Friday Night, or Heretofore Unfathomed Light-weightedness**

The Gryffindor Common Room is crowded with bottles and voices yelling over the music and Remus couldn't be happier to have a firewhiskey in hand. It's been a weird week. Not even. They're going on 40 hours switched. But those 40 hours have felt endless and, according to Madame Pomfrey and Professor Slughorn, they have at least another week of this before the potion they _ hope _ will switch them back is ready.

It's ok though, because he's Sirius at this party and that means getting drunk on a minimal amount of firewhiskey and touching everyone he's spoken to. He slides himself under Marlene's arm while they talk about Ancient Runes and he can hardly hold himself up for giggling, using Alice's shoulder to prop himself up when she tells him about meeting Frank's mother over the summer and the stuffed vulture hat she was wearing. 

"It's this big," Alice says, gesturing widely with her hands, "Enormous. And perched up on her head the entire time, just _ watching_."

"It's not watching anything; it's stuffed," Marlene says.

"If you'd seen this thing's eyes you wouldn't doubt me." 

The stimulation of blaring music and shouted laughter and crowded bodies is very welcome tonight and Remus is drunk on two shots of firewhiskey! Two! He flops down next to James and Peter on the couch, half on top of them.

"Sirius is such a lightweight!" Remus says. "Which I knew-- I mean, we all do-- but it's still surprising even when I'm not _ inside _ Sirius' body."

It took Remus longer than it should have to realize that he's not just in Sirius' body, he's in Sirius' _ mind _. When it did finally occur to him, the overwhelmingly intimacy of it made him want to cry for reasons he can't figure out. Is he upset? And maybe that's why it didn't occur to him sooner because Sirius' head is like… Ok, like his thoughts are… not slow, no that's entirely the wrong word-- he just keeps thinking of the Black Lake, all kinds of mysterious things churning underneath and every once in a while the slippery surfacing of a tentacle, gone before you can really see it. That's what Sirius' thoughts are like, slippery images, too fast and hidden.

"Ok Remus," James says with the kind of consolation that only barely disguises that he will tease Remus about this until he dies. 

"Oh my _ god _," Remus says. "See! See how terrible! I never would have said any of that! It's like I didn't even know I was talking. James. God, James. And what are we going to do about the full moon?"

"We'll figure something out, Moony."

"Do you want to know the worst part?" Remus says, leaning in to James and whispering. "I didn't even remember it until Sirius said his back was hurting and was that normal? I _ forgot, _and Sirius, he's--"

"Just hold on there. Of course you forgot. You've had a lot going on."

"Yeah," Peter says, "It's not every day you swap bodies."

"No, but…" Remus is too drunk and too Sirius right now to explain the psychological terror that accompanies forgetting the thing about yourself you thought you could never forget. "No. No it's terrible."

"Is it really so terrible being me?" Sirius asks, appearing suddenly on the arm of the couch. Or maybe not suddenly. Remus doesn't know. "Here," he says, handing Remus a tall glass of water.

"I didn't mean _ you_." 

"He's very emphatic when he's drunk isn't he," Sirius says. 

James snorts. "You are both ridiculous."

"Truer words," Peter says.

Remus snuggles into Sirius as much as he dares in public (which with Sirius' dimly flickering impulse control is quite daring indeed) and listens lazily to James and Peter arguing about quidditch. He tips his head onto Sirius' shoulder, contented for the first time since the switch, if only because his awareness is warm and slow.

Marlene joins them on the couch not much later and Lily wanders over, sitting with her back against James' legs and James looks like he might combust with joy. 

“So are you guys still each other or what?” Marlene says.

"Yeah, how weird is it swapping bodies?" Alice wants to know.

"Oh it's really normal," Remus says. "Really just very, very normal. It's the most normal thing that's ever happened to me."

"We do this all the time," Peter says.

"I was Peter last week," James says.

"Then I guess I kissed Peter last week," Lily says wryly. 

"You didn't tell us!" Sirius says.

"A gentleman never kisses and tells," Peter says primly while James just blushes.

“What if one of you had a girlfriend? Who would kiss who?” Alice says.

Remus tries not to look at anyone in any particular way but he can’t help glancing at Peter and James. They know, of course they know, James probably understood Sirius’ feelings before Sirius did. But they haven’t told anyone else they're together.

“These are the important questions,” Marlene confirms. “Would you kiss your boyfriend's body or his mind?”

“Definitely body,” Lily says. 

“Hey! Don’t you want me for my sparkling personality?” 

“I'm sorry, did you say sparkling?”

“It’s not split up like that,” Remus says before he considers joining the conversation. “It’s all— mixed up,” he decides finally.

“You can't just stop there.” Marlene says.

Sirius looks at Remus in a way that plainly says I-guess-we're-getting-into-this. "What you're talking about is more like if Remus and I had polyjuiced into each other. It's not like we took on each others' physical characteristics but our minds are otherwise intact, only transplanted. It's more like my consciousness is in Remus' mind."

Lily looks thoughtfully up at them. "That makes some sense. Your brain _ is _ a part of your body."

"Are we getting metaphysical about this?" Alice asks. "I've got some gillyweed if we feel like getting stoned and talking about consciousness."

"Merlin, yes. I can't handle Sirius' philosophical musings sober."

"Stuff it, McKinnon," Sirius says, reaching out to gently shove her shoulder. 

"For the record,” James says, “I think it's a spectacularly bad idea for the two of you to mess around with altered consciousness in altered bodies. That said, I am open to babysitting the both of you for the rest of the night in the interest of pursuing the mysteries of the universe."

"Very selfless of you Prongs," Sirius says. "But Madame Pomfrey would seriously maim me if I have to explain to her that I induced Remus' complete mental and physical breakdown by getting high." 

"Did I just hear a cautious and consequence-aware statement from Sirius Black?" Lily says.

"That's what we mean though," Remus says. "Like… haven’t you noticed? I’ve been talking more.”

“Positively chatty,” Peter says.

“No one else knows us well enough to notice I’ve been quieter and you’ve been louder," Sirius says.

“No— now that you mention it,” Lily says, “I have noticed Sirius has been quieter.”

“It’s because Remus is tired literally all the time.”

“Are you saying you’re talking more because you’re in Sirius’ body?” Alice asks.

“Something like that, yeah. My thoughts sort of… feel different. I’m not thinking so much about what to say.”

“That sounds about right,” James says wryly. 

“Who me?” Sirius says. “Blurting things out?"

There’s more, so much more, but Remus doesn’t want to say the rest, open up Sirius’ head to onlookers and bare the movement and stillness of it. The extremes. Sirius is a wild bundle of energy and ideas like a sky filled with thunderheads, never knowing when lightening will strike or rain will fall, just a diffuse indescribable charge running through his limbs.

“So really there’s no kissing in swapped bodies,” Alice says. 

“Good thing you’ve nobody to kiss,” Marlene says, sharp smile at its peak.

“That’s not—“ Remus cuts himself off. Fucking shite, he was just congratulating himself on holding on to the secrets of Sirius' head and now-- 

"Oh ho!" Marlene crows. "Tell us, Remus!"

Alice leans forward, "Is it Helen?"

"Helen? What? No!"

"I don't know, sounds suspicious to me." 

Sirius shifts his arm just a little, resting his fingertips lightly on Remus' neck, not the kind of touch Remus has ever shared with James or Peter. Remus turns to look at him, trying to read him. Sirius shrugs a little and glances at James, having one of those conversations with just their eyes and Remus is doubly impressed because James can apparently still read Sirius' expressions on a different face.

"Let Remus keep some secrets," James says. "I mean, give the guy a break. He's stuck in _ Sirius' _ head."

Marlene shrugs, sitting back, but Lily is looking up at Remus thoughtfully. If she's figured it out she doesn't say anything and Remus slowly relaxes again as Marlene and Alice decide they don't need anyone else to get stoned. 

**Monday, or Full Moon Day, Featuring a Distressing Lack of Naps**

The morning of the full moon they go to classes like Remus always does. But this time Remus can see all the signs of his body hurting from the outside: the small flinches when his tender skin is bumped, the futile stretching and twisting of an aching back, the dark circles under his eyes. Watching Sirius experience these things is a minefield of feelings he doesn't want to trigger. 

Professor McGonagall was unexpectedly soft this morning, not even admonishing them to get to work, but he knows they won't get the same consideration in Defense. It's their last class of the day and he tries to listen carefully to Professor Henderson but he can't quite keep his eyes off Sirius, slumped over the desk and all but falling asleep. Remus' stomach feels jumpy and he can't stop biting at Sirius' nails. 

Finally class is over but Henderson keeps them late to pass back their graded essays. Remus, dying to be somewhere they can just nap and pretend none of this is happening, shoves his into his bag and is out the door before he realizes Sirius isn't behind him. 

Sirius is still sitting in his chair and frowning at the essay in front of him. It's actually Remus' essay and of course Henderson gave him an Acceptable. 

"Oh sorry," Remus says. He digs out Sirius' essay from his bag and tries to hand it over to him, but Sirius just looks up at Remus still frowning. 

"You got an Acceptable on this."

"I always do." A few days ago he might have joked about Sirius dashing something off last minute and still getting a better grade, but he's tried to write an essay in Sirius' head and knows now that it's not actually that easy for him. Instead he says, "Not everyone is as smart as you and James."

"But I read your essay," Sirius says. "It's almost the same as mine."

Remus shrugs. He's suspected all year that even if he wrote the best essay in the class Henderson would grade it Acceptable. Having it confirmed is not at all surprising, though it does ping against the mountain of anger he keeps buried in the back corner of his mind.

"Here-- gimme my essay. We should talk to him."

Remus latches on to Sirius' sleeve to stop him. "No. No let's just go." 

"Why are you being weird about this? It's the exact same essay, you should get the same grade."

Remus closes his eyes for a moment, his usual placid front is much harder to maintain as Sirius and he's struggling to control his anger at Henderson and at Sirius, who loves him so much and knows, Remus knows Sirius knows, that not everyone has the same accepting attitude of Remus' lycanthropy even if he's sometimes oblivious to the ways that plays out in Remus' life. When he opens them, James and Peter have stopped putting away the mats and packing their bags to watch him and Sirius. 

"Because it's not about the bloody essay," he hisses. "Now please, _ let's go_."

Sirius looks completely baffled, looking at James and Peter to see if they know what's going on, but something in Remus' tone must catch Sirius' attention because he starts packing up his bag, brow still furrowed and darting looks at Remus like he might explode. 

Remus thinks it's over but out in the corridor Sirius starts up again.

"I don't understand why you wouldn't want Henderson to change your grade."

"Because I know he won't."

"But it's practically the same essay!" Sirius says again, frustration edging his tone. "Is it that you don't want to talk to him? You don't have to, I'll do it."

"No. No no no. Absolutely not."

Sirius throws his hands up. "What is up with you?" 

"Please just leave it alone."

Sirius goes quiet. James and Peter have been completely silent, obviously discomfited by their domestic and all of it has Remus at the end of his tether by the time they get to the dormitory. 

He dumps his bag on the bed and flops face down onto it, wishing he could just sleep until he's back in his own body. 

"Remus, will you please just tell me what's wrong?" Sirius says, and the exasperation in his voice, like Remus is the one being unreasonable, makes him snap up.

"Fine! Fine! You wanna know why I don't want to talk to Henderson? Because you're right, Sirius, it is the same essay, only it's written by a werewolf and that's all Henderson cares about."

"That's so fucked. How long has he been doing this?"

Remus just glares at him.

"He's been giving you crap grades since the beginning of the year and you haven't said anything?"

"God, Sirius! Don't be so dense! You think people will just listen to me? ‘Oh, Professor Henderson, I don't think this is fair.’ ‘Oh, you're right, Remus, my apologies for my fucking bigotry!’"

"What about McGonagall?"

"I am telling you it won't help."

"You haven't even tried! And what about me?"

"What about you?" Remus says.

Sirius gets very quiet. "Why couldn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me you've been going through this all year?"

"Because it's none of your business."

"I--" Sirius sits down heavily on his bed. 

James and Peter have scarpered at some point during their fight and Remus feels embarrassed he was so angry he didn't even notice when. 

"I-- you're right that I can't fix it. Ok? That was dumb. I'm just angry, and Remus-- you're wrong that it's none of my business. You could've told me. I mean, I know I don't always-- but you don't tell me anything. You don't even let me try."

"You want too much from me," Remus says without thinking. Sirius ducks his head, looking down at his hands and Remus wishes he could suck the words out of the air. He didn't mean to say that and fucking hell, he is not enjoying being the one who gets angry and says stupid shite while they're fighting. He wants to be measured and even and phrase things just right. 

But he also can't take it back because he does mean it. Everything that has been churning under the surface since they switched rises up and clouds Remus' mind and there's a part of him that doesn't even care right now that he hurt Sirius because the very last boundary Remus has is about to be broken. Sirius will transform. 

"I'm sorry, it's just-- with the full moon tonight--"

"It's fine, Remus. This is fucked up and you're not yourself and… and you've always, I mean, you need to hang on to... to yourself tighter than anyone else so… I get it. It's fine. I do get pretty intense about, I don't know, everything," Sirius says with a precarious self-deprecating smile.

Tears prick at Remus' eyes and he nods silently, laying back down on the bed with a mumbled, "M'gonna take a nap." 

The afternoon passes excruciatingly slowly. They try to nap on their separate beds but Remus can't actually fall asleep. Before dinner, Sirius spends some time coaching Remus through transforming into Padfoot, both of them too polite with each other and not talking about the full moon. 

The four of them decide it's best if James and Peter don't join them this time. No one is saying it, but with some part of Remus occupying Padfoot tonight, and potentially still affected by the moon, it's possible Padfoot will be more aggressive than usual.

Remus is surprised he's holding up under the painful dismantling of the paradigm he's constructed to get through these nights: that _ he's _ not really transforming, just his _ body_. His real self— his mind— doesn’t _ change_, it's just trapped somewhere inside the wolf. It's not really him _ becoming _ the wolf, it's more like he shares this achy vessel and the wolf gets its turn once a month. 

But now Remus knows that's not how it works. He does change, all of him, and soon Sirius will know it.

**Tuesday Morning: A Cassette Tape of ** ** _I'll Be Your Mirror_ ** ** Thirteen Times**

Remus wakes up with the feeling that his head is fresh from a rainstorm. The Shrieking Shack is still dark, Sirius still asleep next to him, bundled up in the Gryffindor bedding Sirius stole from his own bed third year and told Professor McGonagall he had been practicing vanishing spells on the bed. So that Remus could be warm on the dilapidated and surprisingly comfortable bed after his transformations. 

He snuggles closer to Sirius, who he knows will wake up colder than usual. He breathes, slowly and deeply, lips just touching the back of Sirius' neck, less bothered than before by the fact that he's mouthing at his own body. He feels different and he doesn't know why. 

It's just that, they'd sat facing each other waiting for the moon to rise, Remus watching as Sirius started to shiver violently and scratch at his itching hands and arms and holding back the whimpers of pain Remus knew he was feeling and Remus realized that Sirius would do anything for him. 

They hadn't chosen this. But Sirius still transformed in Remus' place. And if he felt angry or afraid, he'd hidden it well because all Remus could see in the last moments of Sirius' human face was a tenderness so intense it bordered on ecstatic. Like all Sirius had been thinking about is that this happens to Remus every month. 

Remus has been so caught up in Sirius' head, in the way that he thinks and doesn't, the way words and thoughts take him by surprise, the way they can't be summoned on command to write an essay or be held back. He's been so caught up, but he also didn't know. Sirius is reckless and heedless of, maybe even unaware of, boundaries but those things are not from carelessness. Whatever else Sirius is, he's also caring. It's intense and sometimes there's a kind of manic devotion that reminds Remus that Sirius hasn't gotten enough love, but Remus knows now he wouldn't have it any other way. 

Sirius wakes up, turning over in Remus' arms and tucking his head underneath Remus' chin. Remus doesn't ask how Sirius is because he knows that he hates that question. He just runs light fingertips up and down Sirius' back and lets him wake up slowly. 

"Merlin, Remus," he says, voice muffled against Remus' skin. "You're so brave. So so brave."

Remus' breath catches, Sirius' words dredging up the deeply buried part of Remus that feels like a scared child. He hadn't known how badly he needed those words. Sirius has seen the dark twisted parts of Remus and wants to tell him he’s brave. Sirius shimmies a little closer and presses his forehead against Remus'. "Every month," Sirius says. "You are so strong and good and I fucking love you."

Remus sniffles and says, "Stop, you're going to make me cry."

Sirius' laugh is a little watery. "God Remus, I'm so sorry this happened. I'm so sorry--"

"Don't-- don't be sorry. You're so good to me. Just let me take care of you, ok? Just don't worry about anything."

"That's it," Sirius says. "Remus, that's all I want. Let me do that."

Remus is confused for a moment and then Sirius says, "Let me take care of you too." 

"Ok," Remus says. "Alright."

Remus knows Sirius is aching. It will be another day or so before it feels like all his bones were put back in the right place. Remus also knows what to do. He runs his knuckles up and down Sirius' spine, digging in and massaging each knob until Sirius groans in pleasure. He leans heavily into Remus, making appreciative noises until he dozes off again. He can feel that contentment again, the total contentment and satisfaction Sirius feels touching another body and he lets himself sink into it. 

When thin strips of light have started to filter in through the boarded up windows, Sirius shifts, reaching up to rest his fingertips gently on Remus' cheek. 

"Do you think it's, uh... significant that the spell thought we're opposites?"

"I hadn't even thought of that."

"You don't think we're… I don't know. Too different."

"Oh, love," Remus says, voice soft. "No. Not at all. Have you been worrying about this?"

Sirius bites his lip and nods. "Ok but-- opposites, Remus."

Remus smiles. "Far be it for me to question your brilliant spellwork, but I seem to recall McGonagall saying something about 'unpredictable results.' Besides, maybe it's more like complements." 

Sirius' worried expression melts. "Do you maybe want to...?" he asks, his hand drifting lower, fingertips skimming Remus' stomach. 

"_ God_, yes."

Remus knows Sirius is aching and he also knows he's always wanted Sirius to be a little rougher. Looking down at Sirius now, flushed and eyes wide, it occurs to Remus for the first time that Sirius has been holding himself back. Sirius would take and take and take if he thought Remus would let him.

Remus will let him.

It's freeing to know how desperately the body beneath him wants the sharp bite of nails in its side. Without deliberation Remus digs his nails into the tender skin just beneath its ribs. Sirius gasps then moans. 

"Oh my god," he says. "Do it again." 

Remus licks a spot he knows is ticklish, lightly runs his teeth over his--Sirius’-- hip bone and digs his nails into his side again. Sirius swears again. "Is this what--" Sirius gasps-- "Is this what you like?"

Remus sits up, looking down at Sirius-in-Remus'-body, and Sirius slings one leg over Remus' shoulder like he's too far away. He doesn't know what to say. Sometimes the words just stop in Sirius' head in a way they never do in Remus'. He sucks a hard kiss on the soft inside of his knee. Sirius' head is just filled with sucking, with an overwhelming and reckless tenderness that makes Remus want to suck bruises into every soft spot on his body. 

Sirius stares back at him, chest heaving. "Why didn't you tell me?" The same question asked yesterday, hurt and betrayed, but this morning it's awe, excitement. 

Why didn't Remus tell him? Remus sucks a little longer, making sure the mark is good and red. "I'm telling you now," he says. 

Sirius is panting. Remus watches his own thin chest heaving, his thin arms stretched up over his head and feels something like heartbreak for all the times he laid under Sirius and worried about the sounds that he made and his bony chest and his sweaty face. For the unchecked impulse to hide. 

Remus slicks his fingers with lube and pushes two into Sirius. 

"Nnnghh," Sirius moans, his hands rhythmically clenching and releasing the sheets. "Your arsehole," he says. "You feel so good. How does it feel so good?"

Before this, Remus had thought that whenever he fingered Sirius, who said he liked it but didn't react much to Remus' efforts, that he wasn't doing it right. Now he knows Sirius' back is very sensitive, his ears, his neck, his lips, but not his arsehole. Now Remus knows his own arsehole is very sensitive, his inner thighs, his ribs, his scalp. 

"This is how good you make me feel," Remus tells Sirius. Sirius cries out at the praise, because that part of Sirius goes with him wherever he goes. 

"I make you feel good?" Sirius asks in a small choked voice.

"You do. Of course you do."

Sirius cries out again, gasping for air as Remus circles his fingers inside Sirius. "You make me feel good too."

Remus can't explain it, not in words, not in this mind anyway, but somehow Remus knows this building flood he's feeling belongs to Sirius, waterlines rising-- he understands now why people say drowning-- Sirius is a poorly built dam and all the better for it. Full of leaks and cracks and a constant frantic effort to stopper them up until he can be like this: submerged, full and spilling. 

Remus can feel what Sirius feels like when he loves Remus: underwater, the world softly distorted, far away, the calm of it, edged by the panic of the next breath, a sharp need to have _ more _. 

"I know," Remus says. "God, Sirius. You want me so much. You want it so much all the time."

Sirius nods. "Too much."

"No, no, it's not too much, love. You can have it. I want you to want me just like this."

It's too much and not enough. 

Remus slowly draws his fingers out, gently petting the soft arsehole that belongs to both of them, lines up the hard cock that belongs to both of them, pushes in, comes home.

Remus' mind in Sirius' body breaching Remus' body and Sirius' mind. The hot tight feeling of fucking himself, fucking himself with Sirius’ hard cock. What a gorgeous mess they make.

Tears leak from Sirius’ eyes, their hands clasped together on the pillow. Noses bumping, breathing the same air. Long slow strokes that Remus can feel in Sirius' cock, knows the feeling in his arsehole. Everything bared. 

They’re wrapped around each other so completely. So enmeshed and pressed together in a hot blinding dissolution, all their sweat and breaths and pleasure inseparable. 

Remus doesn't know how long they rock into each other, both of them deep under, untethered except to each other, pleasure pulsing through them, rising and rising, spilling over into waves of throbbing heat. Sirius runs his fingertips through the come on his stomach and brings them up to Remus' mouth and Remus-- usually put off a little by the smell of come-- laps at them eagerly, sucking and licking with an abandon that belongs to Sirius but now belongs to him too. He doesn't pull out, Sirius doesn't let go. 

He doesn't know anymore what's his and what's not: the slow honey contentment, the constant ache, the holding back, the clawing need. He only knows it took Sirius being in Remus' head to show him his white-knuckled grip on himself, as if keeping himself secret kept him whole. 

**Saturday, or Back to (Relative) Normalcy If Not for One Sirius Black**

They've been switched back for a week when the letter arrives at breakfast. 

Everything has felt both new and familiar. Remus has discovered the irreplicable comfort of familiarity, of being tired and grumpy again in the mornings, his weary bones and tender skin. The sensations were well-known, but the comfort is new. Remus' body was something he had to drag around, just the sack of flesh he had to endure for his lifetime. His body wasn't home. That is, until Sirius lived there. 

A few nights ago, tucked into bed together, Remus told him so, that Sirius turned the lights on in every dark room--there were so many Remus never let himself go in-- and filled them up with love. And Sirius told Remus, warm and close and whispering, that he hadn't even realized how often he thought of his own head as the enemy. That it had always felt like his head was rogue and rebellious, not even answering to him, that he'd always felt like he could do so much more, be so much better, if he could just _ think_. 

And Remus had told him how awed he was by Sirius' mind, that he is thinking, that maybe the thoughts won't come when they're called, but that's because they're deeper. He told Sirius about his Black Lake mind and Sirius had smiled brilliantly. Then they'd kissed and kissed until they fell asleep.

There's been a lot of kissing. 

Remus is slowly buttering his toast when the post owls arrive, sweeping over the tables and unexpectedly dropping a letter on his plate. 

It's a thick bundle. Two sheets of regular parchment, folded around a heavier weight parchment with an official looking wax seal. 

_ Dear Mr. Lupin, _

_ After forwarding my highest recommendations to a few old colleagues, I've heard back from Dr. Doge. Please find enclosed his response. _

_ Warm regards, _

_ Dumbledore _

Remus' arms and hands feel lighter; he's confused and trying not to get his hopes up as he breaks the wax self.

"What's that?" Sirius says, leaning into his shoulder and chewing bacon in his ear. 

"I don't know."

He shakily unfolds the parchment, rereads it three times and still does not quite understand. 

_ Dear Mr. Lupin, _

_ Thank you for your interest in our program. I would be quite pleased to admit such a strong candidate. Please find enclosed the complete application. Official admittance is of course dependent on your upcoming NEWT results, but Professor Dumbledore has shared his confidence in your abilities and I've yet to see him proved wrong. We hope to hear from you soon. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Dr. Elphias Doge _

Sirius, still peering over his shoulder, makes sense of this much faster than Remus does. 

"They want you to apply! They _ invited _ you to apply!"

"Oh my god," Remus says, a bit dazed and a lot elated. "Oh my god. Do you know where Dr. Doge teaches? He teaches at _ Cambridge_. Cambridge! I can't believe-- I never thought-- oh my _ god_." 

He tries to read the rest of the enclosed parchments, flipping through the application but the formally written details wash over him. Dr. Doge wants him at Cambridge next year. 

James and Peter are grinning at him from across the table.

"That's great, Moony," Peter says. 

Sirius doesn't say anything but Remus can see the pride and happiness in his eyes.

"Didn't Dr. Doge write that book you like? The one about dark creatures?" James asks.

"Yeah. He did," Remus says, excited all over again at the thought of studying under someone with such a sympathetic view of magical creatures, even the dark ones like himself, and writing papers in libraries with arched windows and every book imaginable. 

They’re walking down to the Quidditch pitch, bundled in coats and scarves to watch one of James' practice games when Peter says, "That was nice of Dumbledore.”

Remus stops dead. Headmasters don't just send unprompted recommendations out to old friends. 

"Sirius. Did you—?"

Sirius stops too, looking Remus in the eye. "Yeah."

"You-- In my body!? After everything?" 

He lifts his chin. "Yeah, I did." 

"I can't even--" Remus turns on his heel, nearly running, needing to get as far away from Sirius as possible so he's not put in Azkaban for strangulation and never gets to go to Cambridge. 

He stays out by the cold lake refreshing his warming charms and crafting speeches in his head-- everything he would say to Sirius about how he knew Remus would hate it and did it anyway, he knew better, especially after everything they went through in each other's bodies and minds. He rephrases it to make it sharper, more biting, rephrases it again to bare his disappointment and betrayal. 

James comes to join him around lunchtime, still in his Quidditch leathers and smelling like sweat and wind. Remus' stomach is rumbling but he's feeling stubborn.

He sits next to Remus without saying a word, looking out at the lake with him.

"What was he thinking? After everything?" Remus says.

"I'd bet my inheritance he thought that if you never forgave him you'd still go to Cambridge and it would be worth it."

"That doesn't make it ok."

"No, it doesn't. But it might give you a reason to forgive him."

Remus sighs. "Why couldn't he have just asked?"

"Be honest, Remus, would you have done it? Would you have let him?"

Remus crosses his arms, feeling caught.

"We both know you wouldn't have and there would be no studying with Dr. Doge at Cambridge because you don't think you should have nice things or something."

"Haven't I endured enough psychoanalysis for the week?" 

"I'm right. And Sirius did this entirely the wrong way, but let me ask you something else. Have we ever, in our seven years here, pulled the wool over Dumbledore's eyes? Have we ever fooled him?"

"Just get to the point."

"He knew it was Sirius asking and he did it anyway. Why do you think that is?"

Remus frowns. It's so annoying when James gets like this-- Remus is used to him being a bit of a privileged wanker, not a source of emotional insight and good advice.

"Think about it. And think about Sirius' head. You know how messed up it is in there," James says, cracking a grin. 

Remus smiles despite himself. "Ughh, fine. I guess I'll consider speaking to him again during our lifetime."

"Atta' boy. Go get 'em."

"Don't sport-talk me, James, you're on thin ice," Remus says, getting up and dusting off his cloak. 

"Be a team player!" James says. "Set your sights on the snitch!"

Remus finds Sirius in their dormitory, compulsively ripping up parchment into tiny pieces, his body always moving. 

“So you went to Dumbledore pretending to be me and asked him to get me into a school?”

Sirius shreds the parchment into even smaller pieces. “I asked him if he would write you a letter of recommendation and he agreed to. Whatever he said in that letter was about you. And everyone asks for recommendation letters all the time. It’s not like, cheating the system. That’s the actual system.”

Remus sighs. “So you’re not even sorry?”

“I’m sorry, Remus but… no. I don’t feel bad about not letting you fuck up your future.”

Sirius’ unapologetic confidence actually makes Remus feel better, but he still says, “It’s my future to fuck up.”

“Ok so, what I did is fucked up because it doesn’t respect you, right? I mean, I know it doesn’t. I didn’t respect your wishes. But you weren’t going to apply, I know you. You wouldn’t have applied and you wouldn’t have asked for the help everyone else is allowed to ask for and that disrespects you too. You were… you were disrespecting your own happiness and potential and I couldn’t let it happen.” 

Remus is angry and not, angry and grateful and so in love. “Why do you have to be so—“ Remus puts both hands on Sirius’ cheeks and smashes their lips together. He pulls back, still holding Sirius’ face. “You’re a wanker.”

“Yes.”

“And stubborn.”

“You are too.”

“And you have no concept of boundaries.”

“Definitely true.”

“I’m still angry with you.”

“Perfectly reasonable.”

“And I kind of want to blow you.”

“Kind of?”

Remus smiles. “Definitely. One hundred percent sure I want your cock in my mouth.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Sirius says, eagerly unbuttoning his trousers and pushing them down. 

Remus drops to his knees and nuzzles his cheek against Sirius’ hardening cock. Sirius is looking at him adoringly, like he’s the most precious thing in the world, tenderly running his fingers through Remus’ hair. Remus sighs. He loves Sirius, and some part of him even loves that he did this. 

Remus sucks softly on the head, tonguing gently at his glans and looking up at him. Sirius swears and grips his hair tighter and Remus moans to encourage him. _ Pull on my hair_, he thinks, _ fuck my throat, push and pull and intrude. _

Sirius understands. He grips Remus’ skull, firm and unyielding and slowly pumps his cock into Remus’ throat, slow but deep, giving Remus time to swallow around him, take him in. 

Remus closes his eyes, feels Sirius taking him, taking him apart, loving him.

Remus knows now that what Sirius wants more than anything is to disappear into someone else, spill over and let his wanting consume him and what Remus wants, what Remus wants is to be breached, to have someone crack him open and caress and lick all the parts of him that he buries, pick them up and touch them and put them gently back into place. 

He wants Sirius firmly driving his cock down his throat, his hair pulled, his mouth drooling. He wants these moments where he loves his body because it can love Sirius, because it can be hot sucking and hungry. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," Sirius says and Remus moans because he _ knows. _

Later, laying in bed with a sore throat and limp from the pleasure of the orgasm Sirius coaxed from Remus, two fingers up his arse, Remus wonders aloud, voice raspy, what the dorms look like at Cambridge. Will Sirius come visit? Will he suck off Sirius on his bed at uni, annoyed and not that he’s distracting him from his reading?

Sirius tells him, "I'll sneak into your dorm every night if you'll have me."

Remus closes his eyes, sleepy and content; Sirius already knows the answer. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!


End file.
